


When the Wolves of the Sea Start Howling

by Kedreeva



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Pirates, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: Beware, all ye who sail their waters, when the wolves of the sea start howling.Or, the Sterek pirates AU.





	When the Wolves of the Sea Start Howling

            “Stilinski!” she bellowed, shifting fiery-red hair over her shoulder as she scanned the deck. “Where’s the whelp?”

            “Belowdecks, Cap'n,” Allison shouted back from where she was reeling in the lines that docked their ship to the raided merchant vessel. “Where you told him to stay put.”

            The captain turned to give her first mate a surprised look. “Really? He never actually does that.”

            Allison shrugged and cast off the last of the ties, making the short leap to her home deck. She threw a glance back to the hobbled Triskelionand her bound crew. They would be able to free themselves soon enough. “All set here, Cap'n.”

            “Excellent!” Lydia turned to wave to her helmsman. “Take us hard to port, Mister McCall. I want to be drinking in Tortuga by tomorrow night!”

            “Aye, Cap'n!” Scott called back as the sails began to drop. The crew was small but efficient, dropping full sail in a matter of moments. As the wind caught, their ship gave a groan, dropping away from the hobbled merchant vessel and setting a new course.

            One slender hand upon her carved rail, Lydia watched until the Banshee had fully turned, and then caught Allison’s eye. They exchanged curt nods, an unspoken agreement for Allison to watch over the crew while she was below, and then she disappeared. She quickly traversed the belly of her beloved craft until she reached the smallest of the crew rooms.

            The door was open and inside sat the young stow-away that had escaped their last port in a barrel full of what should have been pickled vegetables. He still reeked faintly of vinegar, but she didn’t wrinkle her nose; vinegar was a better scent than some of her crew sported. The moment he saw her, he hopped up from the bare bunk she’d given him.

            “Captain!” he exclaimed.

            “Siddown,” she told him, taking up the doorway so there was clearly no escape. He was sitting against almost before she’d finished giving the order. “You got a choice, kid. I got a plank up top with your name on it, and a prisoner in the brig ready to take your place ‘less you do something about it.”

            She enjoyed the way his big, brown eyes widened as he caught her meaning. “You want me to kill him?” he breathed.

            With a flick of her wrist, she sank her own dagger into the wood of his bunk, and then turned around. “Your choice, kid. Bring it back blooded or don’t bring it back.”

 

* * *

 

            Stiles swallowed thickly and pried the dagger from the wood of his temporary bunk. He hadn’t asked for this when he stowed away aboard the first ship out of town. He’d just wanted to get away, take a voyage until the pain of his mother’s death had receded. The choice had been between the Banshee and an imperial ship, and he knew the imperial crews arrested stow aways. At least with the pirates he stood a chance at staying on the seas.

            But kill someone?

            He took a slow breath, and got to his feet. There wasn’t a choice. Captain Lydia was a queen among pirates and he’d found out too late that there was no way to politely decline her demands- not and keep his head.

            So he tucked the dagger into his belt and walked silently down the hallway. The brig was small and clean and familiar. Stiles had spent his first few nights aboard the ship curled up in the corner of the only cell, manacles around his wrists, crying. Eventually, Lydia had descended and banged on the door, and offered him a real room. She’d told him then that he would have to prove himself. This must have been what she meant.

            When he arrived, he toed open the door and peeked around it. Inside was a young man, maybe a couple years older than Stiles. He was a little scruffy, his shredded shirt in a crumpled pile in the corner, a scowl on his face. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat as their eyes met and he found himself lost in an endless, pale blue.

            “Oh,” Stiles breathed, fingers slipping off the hilt of the dagger. “I don’t think I can do this.”

            The boy’s scowl deepened and he rattled the chains that held him. They had no give; he was well and truly captured. “Do what?” he spat.

            “Kill you,” Stiles said softly. The boy stilled, eyes widening, and Stiles tried to find something to say that would fit around the lump in his throat. “What’s your name?”

            “Derek,” the boy said. It wasn’t quite a plea, but it sank claws of guilt into Stiles’ gut. “It’s Derek Hale, and I don’t want to die.”

            “I’m Stiles,” he replied. He took the dagger out of his belt and watched the color drain from Derek’s already pale skin. He was clearly a merchant’s kid. Without a word, Stiles slammed the dagger into the wood of the door frame. “And I don’t want to kill you.”

            Without another word, Stiles stepped back and closed the door, leaving the prisoner alone. He stood outside for a few moments, letting his pounding heart calm. Maybe he could stall. Maybe he could convince the captain he’d done it. Maybe he could help Derek escape when night fell. Maybe he could leave instead; the captain had said the boy was here to take Stiles’ place. If he disappeared, maybe she wouldn’t kill him, either.

            He steeled his nerves, turned on his heel, and made for the captain’s room. He knew she would be inside, figuring out where they would be off to next or maybe assessing what had been taken from the Triskelion today. Maybe trying to decide the best way to avoid its vengeful captain. It didn’t matter.

            After a polite knock, he stepped back and waited for her to call him in. It didn’t take long. She was sitting behind a huge, oak desk, scrolls and papers spread out over the top of it. Navigation, then. Stiles stood in the entryway until she deigned to look up and fix him with an unimpressed look.

            “My dagger?” she asked.

            He shifted nervously, clasping his hands behind his back. It took a moment and a deep breath before he was capable of looking her in the eyes. “It’s in the brig, Captain.”

            Her eyebrows rose. “Those weren’t my orders.”

            “Aye, Captain,” he said with a little nod. “You ordered me to kill an innocent boy in cold blood.”

            She placed her quill back into the dark inkwell at the edge of her desk, and folded her hands atop the map in front of her. “I didn’t,” she said. “I gave you a choice, kid. You said you wanted to be a pirate.”

            Again, he nodded. “Aye, Captain,” he agreed. “A pirate, not a murderer.”

            She eyed him for a moment, and then pushed her chair back and got to her feet. He didn’t move as she walked over to him, and laid both her hands on his shoulders. He was sure she could feel him trembling, but he straightened slightly, eyes never leaving hers. When she smiled, it left him dizzy.

            “That,” she said, “is exactly what I wanted to hear. Welcome to the crew, Mister Stilinski.”


End file.
